


Keep Clam and Vongola On

by Kamu



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gen, One Shot, POV Second Person, To the tune of 'ocean man'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 02:46:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17296268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamu/pseuds/Kamu
Summary: "Vongola" is a mantle taken only by one capable of great power and comes with great yadda yadda. It's a rather humble origin story by one man and a radioactive spacetime clam.





	Keep Clam and Vongola On

**Author's Note:**

> hiya so Into the Spider-verse is great and I feel Vongola should go back to its roots in vigilantism. put all that discord to use I say. idk if i'm going to expand on this or not, this is simply carry-over feelings from watching an amazing piece of cinematic art. also largely unbeta'd

To start out with, here’s some backstory:

You are Giotto, widely known as “Vongola” to the masses. The reason you spread this rumor and claimed this name was the cause of your powers.

The origin of your flame powers came from a clam. You thought it was food poisoning, but it turns out it was your body coming to terms with the fact that you were a superpowered being now. Also, you combust into non-burning magic fire when you hyperfixate on something, which your international buddy from America named G has claimed is actually unhealthy in the long term and is a sign of other underlying mental illnesses.

Anyways.

As such, you are the sole protector of all of Japan. Back in your homeland, your powers were associated with a lion, a great beast of majesty. This seems to be translated by the people on this island as the powers of their local _kitsune_ legend.

As such, the way the people look at you also changed with the culture. Instead of a creature of respect and power, you are seen as a symbol of mischief and mystery. The people call you many things, such as “ruckas”, “vigilante”, “upstart”, and “fucking _gaijin”._ This one you get called most often by the country’s police for the color of your hair under your mask of flame. You think of it as a term of endearment.

Needless to say, you’ve been doing this for years. Time and time again, you have saved the citizens of Japan from the monstrosities of the sea and the endless spawn of radioactive experiments gone rampant. The world has experienced close calls with destruction at the hands of evil too many times to count.

This time, you think it’s gone too far.

Quantum space? Alternate universes? This new villain is beyond sanity. You like the world as it is without factoring other parallel worlds into it.

You fight the goons. Try to reason with the instigator of imminent doom. You try to make sure the integrity of the tunnel system doesn’t collapse on everybody, leaving it to an anti-climatic ending.

To add more to your load, there’s a civilian boy huddling somewhere in the vestiges of the tunnels. He’s young and feels familiar like family. It’s been a long while since you’ve felt like that, not since you’ve left that _place._ Alaude could come close, but he’s left to start his own family elsewhere.

Why did you promise to teach the boy? Promises are treasures to be given only when it was guaranteed in your line of work.

It’s crazy. You blame the feeling in your gut, like something about this villain is _different._

It figures the crazy idea comes from an old friend. Or rather, a long time enemy.

“Daemon, don’t do this!” You shout as the machine surges and the energy clashes purple and red. Daemon’s goons have you restrained atop one of the surgers, helpless with the USB stick to stop the machine stuck under your body.

“I wouldn’t have to do this if it wasn’t for your weakness, Vongola!” Daemon accuses.

“The world can’t take this!” You try to reason. The structure of the facility begins to warp. Bridges and skyscrapers phase in and out from the center of the surgers’ focal point like some fucked up kaleidoscope. “Elena won’t come back like this! She won’t be the same if you succeed!”

Daemon cackles, the madness glazing his eyes from seeing anything but his goal. “I don’t care! Any version of Elena will do. As long as I have her…!” Even as the walls begin to shake and crumble, he urges his workers to continue.

Maneuvering one of your hands behind you, your intuition tells you to glance up. You grin at what comes next. “How susceptible are you to getting knocked out by something heavy?” You ask.

“Hrng?” The gigantic goon grunts before getting knocked in the head by a falling section of facility, slumping over and releasing you.

“I won’t let you do this, Daemon!” You aim your hands behind you and rocket toward the top of the facility where the USB port stands open from before.

Mere centimeters before you reach it, the goon recovers and knocks you away. You have no choice but to fall off course as the goon tries to keep you and it afloat with its vastly disproportionate wings.

“Get out of the way!” Daemon cries through the window. He and the scientists watch as the superhero is unintentionally thrust into the surgers’ center.

You scream. You scream as the force of whatever goddamn energy Daemon has used for the reactor hits you all at once. It’s excruciating as it burns.

After what seems like forever, the pain fades. Throughout the bursts of color, you glimpse a spot of darkness.

Within the darkness are stars. Connected to all of them are chains, each individual one glowing different colors as they lead to a point. The point flares orange like a badly drawn sun.

This, you know, has to be _yours._

_“Yours” what?_

Everything explodes before you wonder further.

When you wake up and see the boy’s teary brown eyes, you groan and finally complain for the first time in your giving life.

“I’m not feeling too good.”

xXx

To get some insight, here’s some backstory:

You are Sawada Tsunayoshi, sixteen years old, preferred to be called “Tsuna”. You have no skills or stats to speak of. Maybe all you will be known for is retaining the title “Dame-Tsuna” for the entirety of your elementary and middle school career. High school seems to be looking to turn out the same, even if it has a mix of students from different districts who don’t know you as well.

A week ago, you met an interesting pair of siblings. They stood out at your subpar high school.

For one, the brother stood out way too much by making sure he was the loudest person on the campus. How no one noticed him at the start of the year escaped you, and only you.

And two, the sister was the kindest person you have ever met, besides your mother. She doesn’t seem to catch onto the “ignore and mock Dame-Tsuna” disease that seems to hang around the student population. It’s like she’s above that, being like anyone else.

These are the Sasagawa siblings. They’re like the sun, hard to ignore if you look at them but easy to dismiss if you focus on other things lit by their light.

You have noticed no one thinks their presence here is odd. There wasn’t an introduction for transfer students at all. It’s almost like they entered a space that no one had bothered filling. Perhaps you were the only one that didn’t notice and you’re simply looking for friends when there aren’t any. The thought is depressing.

It’s so depressing you go to your estranged cousin’s place to mope.

Byakuran hums as you groan into the couch and relate your crush woes.

“What’s this sunny person’s name?” he asks, munching on his endless supply of snacks.

“Uh.”

“Forgot to ask in your rush to get here?” Byakuran’s smile gets more pointed, as if he knows of your inability to talk to cute people.

After you stutter and make excuses behind your bento, Byakuran makes note of how empty it is.

“Did you eat dinner before you got here?” he asks.

“I, er. I was planning on waiting until _kaa-san_ stops by and brings me another,” you admit out of the corner of your mouth.

Byakuran leans more into your space, smile megawatt bright.

“I was also planning to. Uh, maybe snag a snack since I’m here?”

“Why is that framed as a question?”

“Hie!”

Byakuran pulls you up from the couch and drags you to the door.

“Dear cousin, you know I never have anything more than junk food in the fridge. This calls for a feast! In honor of Tsunayoshi’s first crush!” Byakuran declares, disturbing his neighbors, who he fends off with a smile that’s more like snarl.

You sigh all the way to the restaurant. It’s a high end all-you-can-eat buffet that somehow stays open until two in the morning. It resides three blocks from Byakuran’s apartment. What does your cousin do to live in a neighborhood this nice?

“They have _two_ crystal chandeliers!” You hiss to Byakuran. “Two!”

Byakuran raises an eyebrow as he piles three whole lobsters onto his plate. “Yes? That means the food will be top notch. See, they have all you can eat lobster. Isn’t this great, Tsunayoshi?” he says.

“But—”

“Ah-uh!” Byakuran pinches your lips together with his fingers. “This is the least I can do. You have to get used to not eating your mother’s cooking all the time. Although, I admit her food is excellent.”

You pout at your plate of fried rice at the table. Byakuran doesn’t seem to find this satisfactory.

He plucks a clam from his plate and plops it onto yours.

“Eat,” he orders when you don’t move to do so. “I hear the clams here are their specialty. Wouldn’t want to waste this opportunity to try it, no?”

You glare at Byakuran’s obvious guilt trip to eat. Either way, you dig in. Clams have always been a special food in your household. You could never bring yourself to ask _kaa-san_ for any specific type of food, feeling the guilt at letting her take care of your every need.

You don’t notice how Byakuran carefully watches you crack open the clam.

One bite into that fleshy muscle, and life as you know it has shifted slightly to the left.

xXx

You are Sawada Tsunayoshi, sixteen years old, preferred to be called “Tsuna”. What you thought was food poisoning was actually your body acclimating to your newly awakened flame superpowers.

This is the story of how useless you inherited the famous moniker “Vongola”.

…

…

Omake:

There’s a knock on your dorm window. You double check it’s coming from the window and not your door.

“This is the fourth floor?” You mumble.

You pull the blinds up.

At least seven pairs of eyes blink at you. Actually, seven and one eye. Someone has an eyepatch.

Taking in their expectant faces, you note they all have some sort of flame flickering on their persons.

You release the blinds and shut everything out, knowing you can’t keep it up for long.

“Some of you have never had to obsess over something embarrassing you did over and over again through the night and it shows!”


End file.
